


Bad Company - Chapter 1 - Sudden Arrival

by orphan_account



Series: Bad Company [1]
Category: Not a fandom. Just a story I wanted to write.
Genre: A work in progress.., Gen, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-26
Updated: 2013-04-26
Packaged: 2017-12-09 13:35:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/774799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This story is a live format story, ideas thrown between two people, myself and my girlfriend. I won't be posting the names of the authors, but the format of this story goes author-to-author within a span of a new line. Let me know what you think.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Bad Company - Chapter 1 - Sudden Arrival

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a live format story, ideas thrown between two people, myself and my girlfriend. I won't be posting the names of the authors, but the format of this story goes author-to-author within a span of a new line. Let me know what you think.

“Fuck.” I shout into the barren wasteland, “Why the hell do you keep falling over?” I walk over to the small wooden shed door that keeps falling off because of the harsh wind. I get my paws beneath the top of the door, and I groan as I use my strong wolf muscles to lift it off the ground, and walk it up until it’s propped back up against the shed. “When I find some more hinges I’ll attach this properly.” I mumble into the open fields around my little house.

A shadow flies over, appearing as a pesky crow.

“At least I have some company with these stupid crows.” I grumble, as I turn back to the shed, and begin to secure it with some rope.

The crow appears to grow slowly larger, until the sound of large wings are heard. A female cat with large black-feathered wings lands behind a small shrub in the sand-and in front of your hut- scooping it up with a silver paw and glittering black claws. “This should work,” I mumble to myself, examining the specimen with dark red eyes.

My large wolfish ears perk up, hearing a small noise. My pulse immediately quickens. Off of my back, I swing around a Benelli M4 “Super 90” shotgun. I quickly, and silently, run around the side of my house. I peak around, spotting you, and with ease and precision, I execute a perfect military flanking maneuver, gun on you the whole time. “Freeze!” I shout, “I AM armed, and have the right to wound or kill you. If you make any sudden movements, I will open fire!” I warn.

I stiffen, ears perking. Calmly shuffle my wings close and look over my shoulder, lifting my goggles from my eyes. “I dare you.”

“If you think I’m kidding, Company scum,” I snarl baring fangs, “You’ll surely be sorry.” I cock the weapon, loading a 260 gram, zinc slug sabot shell into the barrel.

Chuckles softly, flicking my black fluffy tail through the air.

“You have 3 seconds to walk..,” I pause, looking at your anatomy, “or fly off my property, or I WILL blow your head off.”

My wings open part way. Waiting for your countdown.

“1!” My finger tenses on the trigger.

Wings open a bit further.

“2!” My eye narrows on the sights.

Wings extend halfway.

“..3!” My finger clamps down on the trigger, as flames lick out of the barrel, spitting the sabot slug at you. With the slug’s pinpoint accuracy and aerodynamics, the 20 feet  
distances between us, it takes nearly an eighth of a second to reach you.

Wings shoot open, just before the bullet reaches me, I disappear. Appearing in front of you, I tackle you to the ground, holding a knife with a bone shaft to your throat.

Reacting with inhuman reflexes, I swing the gun up, hitting you in the head with the stock.

Snarl in pain, I recoil quickly, swiping at your exposed belly with my long claws.

I tuck in my stomach muscles, your claws swiping millimeters from my belly, and then I kick you off of me, throwing you at least 10 feet into the air.

I catch myself in the air, flapping my large wings lightly, hovering above you, just out of reach. “If that’s all you got, pup, I feel sorry for your gun.”

“This gun has killed many of your kind, so unless you’ve come with good intents, it will be the death of you, too.” I cock the gun again, loading another slug.

“Killed many of my kind. It would seem that it’s killed many of yours, as well,” I hiss coolly. I smile, fangs glistening.

“Listen, I’m just trying to live here in peace, mutant. Yet I can’t seem to catch a break with you people. There’s a whole fucking world out there, and yet you keep finding me here.”  
Baring fangs back at you.

“Cuz I’m the mutant. Heh, what are you?” I drop softly to my paws, inches away from you. “Besides, all I wanted was this.” I hold up the small green shute sticking out from the  
clump of soil between my paws. A slight smile cracks my face as I stare at the tiny plant.

“I’m of the first generation, one of the sane ones. I’m guessing you're of Gen 8 or later? I’m gonna say Gen 9, with that attitude, you seem like one of Them. Reminds me of a gal I  
used to know.. never mind.” I aim the gun slightly down more. “Now take that stupid plant you wanted, and get the hell out of here.”

“For someone accusing me of an attitude, seems like you don’t have a great one yourself,” I say tilting my head down with my eyes closed. “And to me, it doesn’t matter what  
gener-the-fuck-ever I am. What matters to me is getting this plant back home. Not like you seem to need it anyways, or even know what it is, for that matter. Oh well, your loss,” I  
say as I snap my head up, eyes glowing like hot coals.

“I will have an attitude towards Gen 9’s like yourself. I fought in the War, and more than likely knew your Creator.” I cock my head. “But you yourself probably don’t even know who  
he or she is.. You poor soul.” I say sarcastically. “At least I know who made me what I am today. As for that plant, I don’t give a shit about them, I have a whole field of them back  
behind the shed. I’ll allow you to take some, but then I want you off of my property. Immediately. Got it?”

My eyes harden and ears fall flat against my skull. My fur begins to bristle. I spin on my heels and stalk briskly away, my wings not making any attempt to open.

“...or not. Whatever, not my problem.” I start walking towards the front door of my house, glancing back one time.

I walk aways before stopping. My ears perk and I stare at the sky with my muzzle open, smelling the air. “Damn,” I mutter to myself.

“Fuckin Gen 9.” I mutter as I open the door and step inside.

My wings shoot open as I race back to your hut, slamming through the door, nearly colliding with the opposite wall with a yowl.

“WHAT THE HELL!?” I exclaim.

“Quick! Close the door!” I yell as I leap at the door that begins to fall. I slam it into the doorway, just as a plume of sand hits your hut. I hold it, but my arms tremble from the  
pressure. Sand blasts at your hut, burying it in a cloud of dust. The wind howls outside as the sandstorm presses.

I put one hand against the door to brace it. “Let go, I got it.” I say without any panic.

With ears flat against my head, I ask, “You sure?”

“I said, I got it.” I lightly growl at you.

“Alright, hold it for a minute, then, wouldja?” I say as I back off. Out of my pouch I pull out two hinges and a couple of screws. Using my knife, I attach them to the door, then lock it  
with a piece of excess wood. “There, that should hold it. You can let go now.”

I let go of the door.

The door holds. I release a sigh of relief, my wings drooping to the floor.

“What was that all about?”

“Guess you’re old and def,” I say jokingly. “You seriously can’t hear that wind? You live in the middle of nowhere. I would hope you know what a sandstorm is.”

“Oh I can hear it, I’m just used to it. I used to walk around out there in them.”

“Heh, try flying in it once,” I say putting a hand on my hip and looking at the door. “Fly in them all the time. But this one I was trying to avoid. Too strong of winds for my wings.”

“Yeah, you wanna be careful in this area. The storms here would rip those right off.”

I close my eyes with a smirk. “Lived around here for nearly five years. I know what that’s like. Nothing compared to... never mind.”

“I’ve lived here my whole life, nearly 40 years. How old are you, you can’t be even 20?”

I look at the door again, sorrow saturating my expression. “Twenty-three.”

“Hmm. Gen 6.. wouldn’t have guessed it.” I remark.

“Like I said, generation shit don’t matter,” I retort. I turn away from you. Finding a stool, I take a seat, my tail curling around the legs.

“Well to a Gen 1 like me, generations do matter. It tells our story.” I cross my arms, watching you.

“Yeah? Well I’d rather much look ahead to the future than look back upon a past best left there,” I say with a slight growl.

“The past is what defines us. Don’t ever forget that.” I spit at you. “If you knew what I had to do, which probably changed YOUR life, too. The past may be the past, but it shapes our  
future!”

“And if you knew what I have to do now, you probably wouldn’t be living in a shack in the middle of nowhere!” I say, rising from my seat, fur bristling.

“I KNOW what you’re trying to do! You’ll never beat them, they can’t be defeated by you, let alone a small army! Why do you think I live out here in a fucking shack?”

A sneer forms on my lips and I laugh. “You old fool.”

“I’m a fool? You’re flying around in a desert, looking for a plant!” I retort.

I pet the plant gently, shifting its leaves. My ears fall, but I don’t reply, keeping all thoughts to myself.

“That’s what I thought.”

“You know nothing, you bastard,” I snarl before slamming you into the wall, stabbing at your neck.

I deflect your hands to the side of my neck, wrapping my arms around yours, tossing you into the counter behind me with ease. “YOU KNOW NOTHING OF YOUR KIND!”

I snarl, baring my fangs, and attempt to bite at your arm. I leap backwards, flaring my wings and land on one of the rafters beneath the rickety roof. “Oh? But I’m not the one living  
alone in the desert while others are finding ‘meaningless’ plants that make a serum to heal otherwise fatal wounds!” I screech.

“I know what the fuck it does! Why do you think I grow them!” I spit at you.

“I’ve seen your garden, you senile old man! All you grow are weeds! This plant is rare, only found in these parts if at all!” I spit back.

“Take a better look, you stupid mercenary, the plant can mask itself by looking like weeds! This is why you’re still looking for them, they’ve been here this whole time!”

“Guess you old nose doesn’t work no more either,” I chuckle. “Plus, you’ve got your plants mixed up. This is a Hydra-lion. You’re talking about the basilisk plants.”

“You’re a fool, who doesn’t know plants, the Hydra-lion, hides in the soil beneath the basilisk plant. If you don’t believe me, go look!!”

“Apparently you don’t. Plus, I think you’ve forgotten that right now your garden is being buried beneath feet-worth’s of sand,” I reply smugly.

“HA! Idiot. The formation of the hill which the shed is on, is a natural block for the sand. It can’t touch the plants!”

“Sure. Whatever. Goodbye!” I say as I leap upwards, putting on my goggles, and breaking through your roof into the wind.

“Fuck... another thing to fix..” I mumble to myself, as I pick up some of the debris that fell to the floor.


End file.
